


look both ways

by broniichan



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broniichan/pseuds/broniichan
Summary: In which Makoto is dead at the same time he is not.





	look both ways

_We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want_  
_whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it._  
  
_But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,_  
_say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep_  
  
_for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:_  
_I am living. I remember you._

—Marie Howe, _What the Living Do_

* * *

The wind howls as it coils fiercely around Haruka’s parents’ house.

From their places on the floor, Makoto whimpers and glues himself to Haruka’s side, and without moving, Haruka bears it with a flat expression.

Haruka’s grandmother smiles, eyes crinkling as she leans back in her chair. “Makoto-kun, it’s just the wind.”

Makoto doesn’t reply. He averts his eyes, fingers curling into Haruka’s shirt.

Plucking up her tiny cup of tea, Haruka’s grandmother blows, steam flitting upward. “Did you know,” she begins, a gleam in her eye, “that the wind is just ghosts trying to find their friends? That’s why it’s so loud, they’re saying hello! But we don’t speak the same language anymore.”

This has the opposite intended effect, and Makoto clings tighter, ducking his head behind Haruka’s. Haruka’s grandmother laughs, but without malice or tease, her voice round and full.

“Ah, there’s no need to be afraid of ghosts,” she says. “They’re not out to get you. They’re just moving around, same as us.”

As if listening and responding, the wind picks up again.

Feeling Makoto’s terrified breath on his neck, Haruka says, “They’re outside. They can’t get in.”

Makoto’s voice is small: “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Makoto relaxes a little, fingers still hooked onto Haruka’s shirt. Haruka’s grandmother sips at her tea and goes to place it back on the little table, but her wrinkled hand shakes and the cup slides from her grip, tumbling to the floor and coloring the wood panels with a steaming puddle.

“Oh,” she says.

When Haruka stands beside his parents on the day they add his grandmother’s ashes to the family grave, he wishes for a breeze to relieve him in this stiff black suit.

Not a breath of wind.

* * *

The ocean behind—churning, capricious—falls out of hearing as Haruka lugs a limp Makoto onto the island shore.

Hands shaking, he tests Makoto’s pulse, senses the warmth still in his skin—and yet, Makoto’s breaths are miniscule, weak.

Haruka hears his own voice calling out for someone. Thin and tinny, a headache blooming inside his skull. There’s no Nagisa, no Rei, no one. Lightning flashes in the storm as Haruka decides. Gently tipping up Makoto’s chin, he parts Makoto’s mouth and leans down—

And his vision splits.

He sees two versions, the same yet different, overlapping yet separate; in one, Makoto coughs and cracks open his eyes. In the other, Makoto lies there, unmoving, showing no difference at the air Haruka frantically offers him. Haruka himself is divided between them, wading in two separate ponds at once, yet his head remains above water and he is fully in neither of them. Watching.

The one version of Makoto squints his eyes open. “Haru… ka?”

The other one does not open his eyes.

Haruka does not, cannot stop giving Makoto mouth-to-mouth, while the other Haruka grasps at Makoto’s shoulder to assure he is tangible and alive, but Makoto’s shoulder feels only half as solid, half as real as it should.

In a daze, Haruka moves with Makoto to take shelter from the graze of rain, though he himself barely feels the wet and cold. As they sit side-by-side, words opening up between them, Makoto is only lukewarm. Other Haruka suffers the rain pattering on his back and sand grating into his knees, his fingers feeling warmth gradually slip from Makoto’s skin.

“It’s meaningless without you!” Makoto eventually blurts, while Haruka sits alone on the beach, without him.

* * *

Haruka’s stuffy black suit remains rumpled in his closet, untouched in both versions.

Where Makoto recovers from the incident at the beach, there’s no need for Haruka to dust it off, but where Makoto isn’t, Haruka shuts himself in his house, locks the doors, and does not participate in Makoto’s funeral procedures. He cannot, not when he can see the other Makoto, the half-alive one, sitting in his room and doing homework like normal.

“You’ve been quiet, lately,” notes Makoto at one point. “I mean, more than usual.”

His voice isn’t as loud as it should be; Haruka strains to hear it.

Sunlight spills in from the window on one hand while the curtains are drawn on the other. Haruka hears himself say, “I’m just thinking.”

Where the curtains are drawn, distant knocking comes from Haruka’s front door. Voices. He does not move, and eventually, the knocks peter out and disappear.

With a knowing smile, Makoto accepts Haruka’s answer and turns back to his math worksheet. “Since you’re thinking, can you help me think on number three? I’m totally lost.”

Haruka does not admit that he can’t think. About math, about Makoto, about his double vision and double existence.

The sines and derivatives are just meaningless squiggles. Haruka shuts his eyes, hoping for darkness, but continues to see his room. The other one, the empty one.

* * *

It’s exactly forty-three minutes past the beginning of school on a Tuesday when Haruka finally returns for the first time without Makoto. The classroom goes quiet. Eyes follow him. Amakata’s brow pinches as she tries to offer him a smile.

He sits and looks out the window without pulling out any of his books or notes. His attention should be on the morning sky and birds outside, but he can see the same exact classroom with the addition of Makoto’s weaker presence by his side.

For Haruka with Makoto, it’s a regular day.

For Haruka without Makoto, it’s not.

Nagisa finds alone Haruka in the hallway. “Hey, Haru-chan,” he says, with a twitch of a smile. “Want to eat lunch?”

Reaching up to shift his bag strap, Haruka looks elsewhere. His voice is low with lack of use. “Not today.” He forgot his lunch.

“Oh. Okay.” Nagisa shifts his weight. “Um… We haven’t had practice, but Gou-chan was wanting to have a meeting to figure out what we want to do about the club…”

Haruka turns away. “Do whatever.”

Nagisa, pushy Nagisa, lets him go.

Haruka doesn’t go back to swim in the pool they all worked so hard to put together, but the other him does, the other him must. Because everything is normal there. Makoto is there. What reason would Haruka have to avoid them and swimming?

As Haruka walks to and from home, he aims his gaze at the stone steps alone. He does not look at the Tachibanas’ house.

The other him has ears full of half-Makoto’s light chatter.

* * *

It’s as Haruka watches, waits, silently on both sides, that he could ask Makoto for advice.

He wishes, often, that he had Makoto’s easy, honest approach to words, that way of being both helpful and comforting. But he can never figure out the right way to phrase things, to make them less sharp and defined, easier to swallow.

Haruka barely knows Rei. He’s not a friend, he’s barely even a teammate, and yet as Makoto’s closest friend, Haruka knows he owes Rei some closure, some forgiveness. But he has none to give, to Rei or anyone.

Nagisa tries. He’s the only one left to mediate, now that Makoto’s gone. “It’s not your fault,” he’s said to Rei, time and time again, but it never clears the air, because it is Rei’s fault. Rei knows. They all know.

Rei takes it upon himself to barely speak to Haruka anymore, barely look at him, barely acknowledge his existence. Haruka does the same, even whilst the other him grows comfortable and fond of Rei as Rei does not merely fill Rin’s space and instead creates his own.

But where Makoto is gone, Rei rejoins the track team, and Haruka only ever sees or interacts with him through Nagisa, who refuses to let a different club and a different path keep Rei from being his friend. But, Rei and Haruka’s friendship is over before it starts.

Rin fills the space Makoto leaves on his own accord, crying and apologizing, yet the other Rin keeps his distance, remaining terse and aloof to all of them despite their collective attempts to reintegrate him back into their lives. He only returns to them when the four of them—he, Haruka, Nagisa, and Makoto—swim as a team again, but in the other one, the Iwatobi team is nullified with their fourth member permanently gone.  
  
And the Rin who returned sooner eventually finds fault in Haruka again.  
  
“What the hell is your problem?!” he shouts, ignoring Nagisa’s placating hand on his arm. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who cared about him! Maybe it’s just that _you_ don’t care about _us_ anymore!”

“Rin-chan…”

“You know who all went to his funeral? Us! We did! And you didn’t. You weren’t there.” His voice cracks. “You, out of all people.” A hand wipes indignant tears from his face. “Do you think this is what he would want?”  
  
Haruka says nothing, because he doesn’t know. He can’t ask half-Makoto what he would want.  
  
The other Rin asks both Haruka and half-Makoto about college. They don’t know.

Haruka scans over Makoto as they walk home in dizzying sunlight, unasked questions weighing down his tongue.

Makoto catches his eye and blinks, straightening up. A small smile tugs at his mouth, saying, _Something up?_

Haruka looks away.

They arrive on their street, reaching Makoto’s house first. Haruka studies the stone steps to avoid looking at the house.

“Want to stay for dinner?” Makoto asks, clutching the straps of his backpack. “It feels like you haven’t been over in forever. Ren and Ran have been complaining.”

Haruka shakes his head. “I have mackerel that will expire tomorrow, so I have to cook it tonight.”

“Since when do you care about expiration dates?” Makoto says, cocking his head. “You’re turning into Rei.”

“Since now.” Leaving Makoto hanging, Haruka splits away from him and hops up the stairs to his house.

In both versions, Haruka is alone in his house. Up in his room, lights turned off, he cautiously peeks through the crack of his curtains. Makoto’s curtains are drawn, completely dark in the one image, but in the other, lamplight seeps through the edges.

_How can I comfort them when I can still see you?_

* * *

It’s only a matter of time.

“I’m going to a university in Tokyo.”

Only a matter of time until half-Makoto, still alive-Makoto realizes he doesn’t need Haruka after all. He shouldn’t, Haruka knows this; he should want to carve his own path and follow his own ambitions, regardless of what Haruka does. He wouldn’t dare dishonor Makoto and say he’s only half of himself without Haruka. It’s good that Makoto doesn’t need him as much. It’s good.

But Haruka eventually decides to go to Tokyo in both anyway, albeit for different reasons. In one, to pursue swimming and be with Makoto. In the other, to pursue something unknown and get away from Makoto.

“You better come back and visit!” Nagisa whines where it is just Haruka leaving for Tokyo.  
  
A throwaway: “Yeah.”  
  
Rei says nothing, because Rei is not there. Kou is with her other friends. Haruka hears of a small going away party for Rin, who is leaving for Australia once more, while other Haruka helps put together a bigger party for him.  
  
He receives the invitation to the smaller one from Kou, but he doesn’t attend.

When he gets to Tokyo, it takes him time to adjust to his new surroundings. People are everywhere, swarms flooding the streets, sidewalks, subways. The metropolis, with its smells and sounds of concrete and machinery, masks whatever hint there may be of the neighboring ocean. His one apartment, with the help of a generous sports scholarship, is much nicer and closer to campus, while his other apartment is smaller and farther away from his classes. But Haruka knows he would be just as comfortable in the smaller one if not for one big reason. After all, it’s bizarre to live in a space that has never been touched by Makoto.

Maybe it’s not Makoto who is only half himself.

* * *

**haru-chan HARU-CHAN look at this cat me and rei-chan found!!!**

**< haruchanthesecond.jpg>**

**he looks just like you!! very serious, very thoughtful, a man of mystery, probably likes fish** **( ﾟｏ⌒)**

**ACTUALLY though he wouldn’t let us pet him at all at first and rei-chan had given up but I stayed there an extra 20 minutes and EVENTUALLY he let me pet him AND!!!!!!!!! HE STARTED PURRING!!!!!!   ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡**

**he almost looked sad when we left though (╥﹏╥) I hope we get to see him again someday**

Scanning over the messages without really reading, Haruka doesn’t open the image and turns his phone off.

* * *

The pattern of college reveals itself: class, homework, practice, sleep. Class, homework, nothing, sleep. Hangouts with Makoto when they both can spare the time. Afternoons and nights spent at the university pool to fill the time.

Of the nine million people living here, Haruka is but one droplet in a vast ocean, barely making any ripples as a pre professional swimmer and making no ripples as an aimless college student. Nine million people, but they are just a backdrop. If they were to vanish from the subways and sidewalks, Haruka would not notice, for they are two-dimensional pieces of a set to give way for the main actor.

* * *

“Have you looked at tickets yet?”

Haruka glances up from his ramen bowl. “For?”

“The trip back home for winter break,” says Makoto. “I haven’t really checked the schedule or prices yet.”

Through the steam from his bowl, Haruka says, “I’m staying here for break.” Other him has no reason to leave Tokyo.

“Oh.”

“Training,” he explains quickly.

“Aw, that’s too bad. Can’t be helped, then.”

Haruka looks down and stirs the broth, ears ringing with his coach’s farewell of, “Get a lot of rest over break!”

When Makoto returns and the spring semester begins, Haruka gets to see a lot of pictures of Rei, Nagisa, Kou, and the rest of the Tachibanas. Even though the brightness on Makoto’s phone is fine, the pictures look desaturated, lifeless despite containing an overabundance of life.

Haruka in the other version goes to his first day of class for the semester, and he doesn’t open his notebook to take notes.

* * *

On his own break, Rin comes and visits Tokyo for a couple of days. Makoto meets up with him, but Haruka makes up something to get out of it, blocking out his mind’s eye of Rin complaining about him to Makoto. If that actually happens, Makoto doesn’t tell Haruka.  
  
The other Haruka receives a text beforehand.  
  
**yo I’ll be in Tokyo next week from Tuesday to Thursday, so if you want to hang out or something just let me know when works for you**  
  
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday pass.

* * *

Half-Makoto has a lot of friends in Tokyo, and Haruka has heard enough of about them to know their names, majors, hobbies, despite never having met them. There’s always something, it seems, to prevent Haruka from meeting them.

At lunch, voice careful, Makoto asks, “Haru… How come you never hang out with any of your teammates? They’re so nice!”

“Already have enough friends.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I don’t need more people.”

Makoto peers into him, and Haruka ignores how desaturated he is. “Haru…” His hand rests on the table and twitches, accidentally bumping into Haruka’s hand. Lukewarm.

Pushing out his chair, Haruka stands. “I have homework.”

“Huh? Right now?”

But Haruka is already scraping up the packaging of his boxed lunch and slinging his bag over a shoulder. He leaves Makoto there, too blank to say anything, and finds himself on a crowded, rumbling subway car. It’s not even the right line back to his apartment or to his school, but he sticks to it, riding it out until it ends.

* * *

Haruka forgets to charge his phone for a couple of weeks. It takes a while to boot up, and he expects, hopes for something from half-Makoto, but there are no new messages.

Out of curiosity, Haruka flips through his other texts on both sides and actually reads them; Rin asking about hanging out, Nagisa and that cat, Nagisa and a whole boatload of anecdotes, Kou checking up on how he’s doing, Kou inviting him to Rin’s going away party, Rei offering his college experiences from a couple of months ago, and Rei’s overly formal last text from two years ago.

Haruka squeezes his phone tight.

* * *

Class, practice, sleep. Class, nothing, sleep. Weeks’ worth of ignored homework builds up. As he avoids Makoto in flesh and in fabrication, Haruka realizes how little he knows of the people directly beside him, the ones whose presences are sure and full.

He stands on the subway, swaying with the twists and lurches, surrounded, trapped. Unfamiliar faces pay little attention to him.

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Standing in line at a nearby grocery, Haruka absently stares off, listening to the items being scanned. His eyes travel upwards, where a small TV hangs on the wall and blares the latest news. Something about a tsunami farther up north; not the worst one they’ve had, but no laughing matter either. The news station plays a loop of wrecked shorelines and buildings, fed by updated stats on those injured and killed. Within the loop are a couple of shots of survivors, huddled together, hugging, tears smearing faces.

“Next, please!”

Haruka jerks back into his body and steps up to the register.

* * *

Haruka’s teammates stopped inviting him out a long time ago, so when a couple of them in the locker room discuss going to a club to relieve some of the stress of upcoming Olympic trials, he remains on the fringe of the conversation.

“So you want to meet there, or do we want to eat first? I’m down for everything _except_ tonkatsu.”

“Why do you hate tonkatsu so much?”

“I don’t hate it, I just think it’s overrated and you guys are always dragging me to tonkatsu places. I’m putting my foot down.”

“Thanks for stating your boundaries.”

“So, who’s up for tonkatsu?”

“Oh, get fucked.”

Go out to dinner and talk to unknown people? Go to a club? To dance to thundering pop? To drink ridiculously priced alcohol?

Haruka sets his jaw and slings his bag over his shoulder, approaching them. “Hey, uh. Can I come?”

Open mouthed, they stare, and tension builds in Haruka’s chest at the possibility of a no.

But instead, they shoot excited looks at each other and smile. “Yeah!”

The other Haruka sits a couple of seats beside this one girl with short sandy hair in his one class. She, unlike him, diligently takes notes on her laptop, which has a huge sticker of a silvery blue dolphin on it.

For the first time ever, Haruka makes himself arrive early. She is already there, head bent over her weekly planner as she crosses out tasks. His presence does not lift her head.

With a click of her pen, she snaps her planner shut and shoves it and her pen back into her backpack. From within she withdraws her laptop, dolphin grinning cheerily, and plops it on the desk.

Haruka forces himself to say, “I like your laptop sticker.”

She glances up, processing a moment before smiling. “Thanks!” She opens the laptop and pulls up her previous notes. As it loads, she yawns, stretching her arms overhead and shooting Haruka another look. “Have you started studying for the midterm at all?”

Haruka almost laughs. “No.”

She laughs for him.

* * *

Fall comes, the leaves turning splendid oranges and yellows. They crunch under Haruka’s feet as he walks, detached and decaying. Already dead, but lingering.

The chill sinks into his damp hair after he leaves the pools—different ones, a smaller open to the public one and a pristine, spacious Olympic sized one—and he thinks of Makoto fussing at him to dry his hair properly.

But Makoto is not beside him, half or otherwise.

* * *

**hey**

**i’m sorry for walking out on you the other day and not contacting you. i’ve just had a lot to think about recently and i needed to do it on my own. it wasn’t anything you did, so don’t worry**

 

**I figured you needed some time alone, but I’m glad to hear from you. I was worried**

 

**i know. sorry**

 

**No worries. If you want to talk about it, I’m here**

 

**thanks. also i forgot to charge my phone for about two weeks, so**

 

**Haru!!! ＼(º □ º l|l)/ Aren’t you waiting to hear about olympic placements??!!**

 

**i’ll find out when i find out. whether that’s them calling me or me hearing about it from someone else**

 

**Ehhhhh, don’t you want to hear the news yourself??**

 

**? it’s the same news, so what does it matter who tells it to me**

 

**(-_-;)・・・**

**Well, anyway. Thank you.**

 

**what for**

 

**For always being here**

****Haruka wants to absorb those words—but the screen is so dim, and he knows it’s not because of a low battery.

 

**it’s nothing**

* * *

It’s easier in the version with half-Makoto. Haruka knows Makoto keeps close contact with Rin, so he just surreptitiously slips into the background one day as Makoto Skypes with Rin.

“Oh, so he does exist,” Rin comments, smirking. “Congrats on making the team too, by the way. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” Haruka admits. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The other version, Haruka must do everything himself. He isn’t surprised, checking the press article, that in both versions Rin continues on his planned path, pushing himself forward into swimming and making a name for himself on the Olympic team. Haruka doesn’t join him in this one, but out of curiosity he does look up Rin’s qualifying times. While Rin still made the team, he just clawed his way in, his times significantly slower in this version than in the one with Haruka.

With no Makoto to guide him nor any promise of seeing Rin in person soon, Haruka must send his own message.

**is there a good time to call you**

The response comes the next day, presumably after some deliberation.

**I might be available Sunday afternoon**

On Sunday, Haruka makes himself open Rin’s contact, trying to find the memory of the last time he spoke to Rin in this version. He doesn’t find it, not before his reluctant thumb presses “call” and the line begins to ring.

Click.

“…What.”

“Rin,” Haruka breathes.

No response.

“Uh…” Haruka wishes the other him could ask Makoto what to say. “Hey.” He swallows. Stay simple. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“I… haven’t been a good friend to you. In a long time.”

Rin lets him soak in it.

“So I… Sorry. For avoiding you. I don’t want to, anymore.”

Silence but for the slight crackle of the connection and the faintest puffs of Rin’s breath.

Haruka inhales. “Congrats on making the national team. You’ve worked hard.”

“Thanks,” Rin murmurs, and Haruka can hear him softening. Not all the way. But enough.

* * *

“We’re going to Iwatobi for summer break, right?”

Blinking, half-Makoto takes it in. “Ah, yeah! You don’t have training?”

“There are pools and gyms in Iwatobi.”

“I mean, yeah, but isn’t it different now that you’re with the national team?”

Haruka shrugs. “They’re allowing us a week off at the beginning of the summer.” He shifts, guiltily. “I’ve already bought train tickets, so.”

“Eh? Haru, you didn’t have to do that—”

“I did,” Haruka cuts across. “And you’re not paying me back.”

Eyes narrowed, Makoto only tilts his head in response, hearing the finality in Haruka’s voice. Haruka offers no explanation.

The other him purchases only one ticket back to Iwatobi, but sends three texts.

* * *

Makoto’s parents (plus Ren and Ran) come to pick Makoto and Haruka from the station. They both are fawned over, and Haruka’s innards churn every time someone mentions how long it’s been since he’s visited, no matter how casually it’s said. The other him finds no one waiting for him at the station, as he can’t ask Makoto’s parents to pick him up. Iwatobi is the same as always, virtually unchanged in the couple of years it’s been since he’s returned. Familiar salty air infects his lungs. Gulls caw overhead.

When they reach their street, Haruka trails behind, eyes like lasers on the stone steps until he can no longer avoid looking at the Tachibanas’ house. Nothing has changed. They let him enter their house as one of them.

When other Haruka arrives alone, he passes up hopping up the stone steps to his own house and forces his feet to stop at the Tachibanas’ front door. He knocks.

A voice calls from within. Thumps of footsteps. He finds himself face-to-face with Ran’s green eyes.

Her mouth gapes. “Haru-nii-chan?”

“Hi,” he says, smiling. “Can I come in?”

She just blinks, propping open the door with her arm, and yells over her shoulder, “ _Mom!_ ”

Dimly: “What is it?”

“Haru-nii-chan is here!”

Slower footsteps pad closer, and Makoto’s mother appears in the hallway. She hesitates a moment as she meets Haruka’s eyes, but she smiles and comes to stand behind Ran. They’re dangerously close in height now, but that doesn’t stop her from ruffling Ran’s hair.

“This is a surprise, Haru-kun,” she says, mildly.

“I’m on summer break, so I thought I’d stop by.”

A pause.

“Well, I’m just about to make lunch, if you want to come in,” she offers. “I’m sure Ren would like to see you too.”

He dips his head. “Thank you.”

While the other him is comfortably settled at the table beside Makoto, this Haruka steps in and leaves his shoes in in the entryway, Ran surveilling his movements as their mother returns to the kitchen.

Ran barrels into him, squeezing tight around his torso. He freezes. After a couple of moments, she pulls back and looks up at him, hooking her fingers onto his. She says, “Just checking.”

Refusing to let his hand go, she leads him to the kitchen, where her mother stands at the stove, managing things sizzling in pots. Haruka takes a seat at the table beside Ran.

Glancing over her shoulder, Makoto’s mother says, “Ran, can you go find Ren? He’s probably too busy playing video games to have heard Haru-kun come in.”

Ran whines something, but with a sharp look from her mother, she’s sent off to grudgingly get Ren.

He watches Makoto’s mother work, gut twisting at the familiarity of the back of her shiny brown hair and the image of her doing the exact same for them in the other version. There’s a silence, filled only by the smells and sounds of lunch.

“I’m sorry.” His mouth is dry. “For not being around.”

She taps a spoon on the side of a pot. “You’re here now,” she says. Something bubbles in the other pot and she points to it. “Can you get that?”

Somehow, in both versions of the kitchen, Haruka ends up helping her complete the whole meal, but in the kitchen with Makoto, both Makoto’s mother and Haruka order Makoto to remain where he is and not touch anything, though designating him (along with Ren and Ran) as the dish washer for afterwards. When the food is done, Haruka in both versions volunteers to bring a small bowl of rice to their family altar.

Pace slowing, Haruka leaves the bustle of the kitchen to the quiet living room. The altars in both are almost the same. Both share framed pictures of old black and white photos of long gone great-grandparents as well as a great uncle, but only the one has a portrait of Makoto. It’s a picture of him from the end of the first year of high school, him smiling wide among flowers and bushes renewing.

Haruka stands there for a while in both.

In the one version, Makoto calls, “Haru? We’re about to eat!”

In the other, Makoto’s mother calls, “Haru-kun, it’s getting cold!”

Haruka places the bowl of rice on both altars. A plume of steam rises parallel to Makoto’s picture, while a plume of steam rises beside nothing.

He turns away.

* * *

Both versions of Nagisa screech and fling onto Haruka, squeezing out any breath he has left, while the one has half-Makoto standing aside and laughing. Rei hovers behind, a little stiff, calling Makoto, Haruka, and other Haruka by senpai still despite how they haven’t been at the same school for years now.

Nagisa pulls back from the hug eventually, a hand remaining on Haruka’s shoulder. An omniscient smile. “It’s really good to see you, Haru-chan,” he says, quieter.

Both Harukas look away.

They all spend the day together, letting Nagisa drag them around all the different shops in Iwatobi and listening to him bemoan how much he misses the cream bread, which his university is so callous not to have. Where Makoto is, it feels almost the same to have the four of them all back together; Haruka is the only one who is offbeat, trying to locate the pulse so he can follow along. But where Haruka is alone, Rei is serious, uncomfortable with the forced hang between him and his ex-teammates, Haruka is reserved, slipping in between both versions of the day, and Nagisa works overtime to fill the void.

Day turns to dusk, summertime crickets chirping loud over the faint swishes of wind and waves. Odd, now that Haruka’s ears are used to the mechanical noises of Tokyo.

The four end up on the beach shore in content, contemplative silence, while the three end up firmly on land, looking at the ocean at a distance from a high hill. With all four of them, Haruka doesn’t feel the need to say anything, but with just three, garbled words clog up the back of his throat.

Haruka studies the light slip from Rei and Nagisa’s profiles as the ocean swallows the sun whole.

“You guys,” he says.

They both turn to him.

He exhales slowly, hands by his sides. “Look, Rei. Makoto’s death was your fault.”

Rei flinches. “W-Wha—”

“ _Haru-chan—_ ”

“And it was your fault too, Nagisa,” Haruka continues. “And it was Kou’s. And Rin’s. And mine.” He lowers his eyes. “And it was Makoto’s fault most of all.”

They both stare.

“I guess what I’m trying to say…” Wrings his hands. “It’s all of our faults, but we’re not to blame.”

Shaking his head, Rei blinks rapidly. His voice wobbles as he says, “That… That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Probably.”

The sky overhead shifts to a muted blue, the stars not visible quite yet. Haruka remembers that moment after their night in the lighthouse those years ago, where the galaxy lay bright in puddles at their feet. Remaining on the damp beach until morning, this him and this Rei and this Nagisa never got to see that.

Nagisa’s face screws up, tears slipping from his eyes. “I miss him.”

Haruka smiles, sadly. “I know.”

He ends up being cried on by both Rei and Nagisa, while in the other version, where Makoto sits beside him in the sand, no one sheds a tear.

Throat closed, Haruka hugs Rei and Nagisa back.

* * *

After Haruka’s single week of break is up, both Makoto and Haruka return to Tokyo, while Haruka with no Olympics and no training remains a little longer in Iwatobi, spending time with Nagisa, Rei, the Tachibanas, and even Kou for a couple of days.

In Tokyo, Makoto, being the hopelessly considerate person that he is, insists to walk Haruka all the way up the six flights of stairs. Haruka lets him.

“I hope they fix that elevator soon,” Makoto puffs, shutting Haruka’s apartment door behind him.

“Yeah.”

In Iwatobi, Haruka doesn’t have any plans with anyone today, and instead makes a trip on his own, up a grassy hill in the trees, birds singing all around him. His insides froth when he spots the clusters of carved stone blocks, but he keeps his legs moving, slipping amongst them.

Makoto stands in the entranceway of Haruka’s apartment, not stepping any further with his shoes on. A little stretch of silence.

With a quick smile, Makoto says, “Well, I should probably get going…”

Other Haruka’s pace through the graves slows as he finds what he’s looking for. The grave is nothing special, just stone in average in height and design, but he can barely look at it directly.

Haruka studies Makoto’s face, watching the smile fade into muted curiosity. He’s used to the desaturation, now.

Haruka stops in the shadow of the grave.

“Makoto, are you here?” An exhale. “Because if you’re not… I would want you to go.”

 _TACHIBANA,_ it reads from the top.

Haruka’s double vision disappears, and he’s dropped into one pair of eyes and ears, one body, one existence, standing in his apartment with Makoto. Everything is twice as intense to him now, so clear, so colorful, his senses picking up the smallest, most insignificant of things—the rumble of traffic on the street below, the slight prickle of dust from leaving his apartment empty for a week.

And Makoto—Makoto peers into Haruka, undeniably alive and radiating a fierce heat Haruka can feel from a distance. Concern colors his face as he twitches as if to reach out for Haruka, but something holds him back. “Haru-chan?”

Haruka blinks. His face is wet. “I—”

Makoto ignores his shoes and steps into the apartment, pulling Haruka into a hug. For a moment Haruka is overwhelmed by how solid and real Makoto is, but squeezing his eyes shut, he buries his face in Makoto’s shoulder.

They stand there for a long time. For once, Haruka has only one thing to feel.

* * *

The grass is plush underfoot.

A thoughtful hush falls over Haruka and Makoto as they weave through the graves. The Tachibana family grave is closest, so they come to a stop there first. It’s a clean, warm day, so they’re comfortable to stand there in silence under the sun for as long as they want. Faced with all of his ancestors’ remains, Makoto closes his eyes, hands pressed together, taking in slow, even breaths.

Haruka, meanwhile, keeps his eyes open. He rests on the smooth stone, where Makoto’s ashes are not, where Makoto’s ashes will be.

Eventually Makoto blinks open his eyes, dropping his hands. They tear away from the Tachibana family grave and slip through to find the Nanase family grave next. It’s functionally the same, just a little newer and less weathered.

Again, Makoto closes his eyes. Haruka pictures the ashes he once saw added to the grave through child him’s eyes. He shuts his eyes, and it is only black that meets him.

Makoto’s voice eventually retrieves him. “Ready?”

Opening his eyes, Haruka finds Makoto with a faint smile on his mouth. He returns it. “Yeah.”

They follow the path out of the maze and head to descend back down the hill.

A soft breeze punctuates the stillness. Rustling branches fill Haruka’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> you know, i've written many a thing in my life. for fic, for my own personal stories, for schoolwork. i've written multiple fics over 100k, but boy howdy i haven't struggled to get my thoughts out as i have with this little 5k thing. i generally have a pretty moderate opinion of "well it's not perfect but i can live with it" as far as my writing goes but jfc this fic had me hating it one minute and loving it the next. so i had to finish it, because i think that means something and because it gripped me so intensely i couldn't let it go. it's still not as good as i want it to be, but i think i can live with that. 
> 
> fffffffffff rant over here's some emo jams that kept me inspired: [telescope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OCEh6g6whc) by cage the elephant, [if you need to keep time on me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIrNaX__Cjk) by fleet foxes, [ghosting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlAiq0_BXac) by mother mother
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


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